t her breath several times in a futile effort to stay the
sobs, and then broke down and cried, a very much abused young woman.
She hated everybody and everything.

CHAPTER V

IN WHICH DAN CUPID TRESPASSES

Lady Bazelhurst was right. Penelope was making her way through the
blackest of nights toward the home of Randolph Shaw. In deciding upon
this step, after long deliberation, she had said to herself: "Randolph
Shaw is the only real man I've seen since coming to the mountains. I
can trust him to help me to-night."

It was fully three miles to Shaw's place, most of the way over the
narrow valley road. She knew she would encounter but few tortuous
places. The last half-mile, however, was steep, rugged, and unfamiliar
to her. She had ventured no nearer to his home than Renwood's deserted
cottage, lying above and to the south of the road, almost at the base
of the long hill on whose side Shaw had built his big home. To climb
that hill was no easy task in daylight; at midnight, with the stars
obscured by clouds and tree-tops, there was something perilously
uncertain in the prospect.

Only the knowledge that patience and courage eventually would bring
her to the end made the journey possible. Time would lead her to the
haven; care would make the road a friend; a stout heart was her best
ally. Strength of limb and strength of purpose she had, in use and in
reserve. No power could have made her turn back willingly. Her anxious
eyes were set ahead in the blackness; her runaway feet were eager in
obedience to her will.

"Why couldn't I have put it off until morning?" she was saying to
herself as she passed down the gravelled drive and advanced to meet
the wall of trees that frowned blackly in her face. "What will he
think? What will he say? Oh, he'll think I'm such a silly, romantic
fool. No, he won't. He'll understand. He'll help me on to Plattsburg
to-morrow. But will he think I've done this for effect? Won't he think
I'm actually throwing myself at his head? No, I can't turn back. I'd
rather die than go back to that house. It won't matter what he thinks;
I'll be away from all of it to-morrow. I'll he out of his life and I
won't care what he thinks. England! Goodness, what's that?" She had
turned a bend in the drive and just ahead there was a light. A sigh of
relief followed the question. It came from the lantern which hung to a
stake in the road where the new stone gate-posts were being built by
workmen from tow